


Wake With a 'Kiss'

by akelios



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Curses, Kinkmeme, M/M, Somnophilia, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-20
Updated: 2011-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:16:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akelios/pseuds/akelios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Kiss? Who said anything about a kiss? Fucking Disney, alright, ruining everything."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake With a 'Kiss'

"Only you, Harry. Only you." Thomas let Harry's limp body slide out of his arms and onto the bed. The unconscious wizard sighed deeply and immediately rolled onto one side, wrapping his sheet around himself in the process. "Just. Stay there. Sleep. Don't do anything else. Okay? Okay." He felt silly, talking to his deeply asleep brother, but then the entire situation was insane so what was a little more crazy?

He went back to the front door and grabbed the bundle he'd dropped there, then headed down into Harry's lab. He lit some candles around the room with his lighter.

"Hey! Hey Bob! I have a problem here." Lights flickered up in the eye sockets of the skull.

"A problem you say? Well, color me _shocked_! What's he done now?"

"I'm not really sure. We were going through this storage locker for a client of his. The guy thought that he'd bought a cursed giraffe statue. Weird, I know. But it's Harry. So anyway. We're hunting through this guys crap for this cursed statue that he can't remember exactly where he put and then Harry found this...thing. And by found I mean put his hand down on the pointy end and got scratched. Then he dropped like a stone and I haven't been able to wake him up." Thomas pulled the heavy plastic wrapping open and set the wooden rod down on one of the empty tables in the middle of the room. He picked up the skull and set it down next to the item. "Any idea what the hell it is?" Silence and then the skull somehow managed to tilt forward to look more closely.

"It's a spindle. From, you know, a spinning wheel. Wow. That is one heavy duty old school curse right there." The spirit made a low whistling sound. "Nice work. I haven't seen one of those in _centuries_." Thomas rubbed his hand over his face, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"So he pricked himself on a cursed spinning wheel? Really?"

"Looks like. But it's not going to kill him! It's a sleep curse. He's just going to sleep. Forever. Or until someone breaks the curse."

"And we would do that how?"

"Traditional ways are always the best. Find a prince, someone of significant power, mix their power with Harry's power, and _voila_! Broken curse!"

"How is this his life? It's a fucking Disney movie!"

~

"Please?"

"What? No. I really need you to explain this to me again. Slower."

"Harry is under a curse. In order to wake him up from said curse, he needs to be kissed by a prince. I tried kissing him, because technically I am a prince, but it didn't work. Maybe because of the vampire, I don't count. I don't know. But Harry told me that one of the Swords responded to you. We think you have to have royal blood for it to do that. So...please?"

"You want me. To play Prince Charming and wake Sleeping Dorkus over there?"

"Yes." Thomas put a hopeful look on. It probably would have been more effective if Murphy hadn't been bent over, clutching her stomach and laughing so hard it looked like it hurt. He waited. Five minutes later, she straightened up, wiped some tears out of the corners of her eyes, and coughed, still grinning.

"Alright. Let's do it." She moved past Thomas. "I will never, ever let him live this down. Never." Murphy leaned down, short golden curls swinging free, brushing against Harry's stubbly cheek. She kissed him, a sweet, gentle brushing of lips. Nothing happened. So Murphy leaned in again, hands holding his head steady and kissed him for real. Lips parting, a bare glimpse of slick muscle as her tongue darted out, flicking into Harry's slack mouth. When she pulled away this time, they both watched, waiting. Nothing.

"Dammit."

~

"No. Absolutely not, no. Do I need to list how many ways this is a terrible idea?"

"Sure, sure. Go for it. We're fresh out of acceptable princes here, Murphy! I tried, you tried, Michael tried. Hell, we even got Molly to plant one on him. And we all know how deeply wrong and disturbing that last one was. Nothing. Maybe it takes more than just having royal blood. Maybe the prince needs to have actual power. Marcone fits the bill!"

"How does he fit the bill? He's a 'baron'." Murphy did air quotes around Marcone's title and then took a deep gulp of her beer.

"Sure, that's his official title, but he's basically a prince of the city. It's his. He controls it, he protects it. I think Marcone's the closest we're going to come to modern day old school royalty. Just call him. You really want to leave Harry like this?" Thomas took a drink of his own beer. They'd had quite a few, between the two of them. He thought they probably needed to move on to something a bit stronger.

~

Marcone sat on Harry's ratty sofa and sipped at some scotch. Thomas had no idea where the scotch had come from. Maybe Hendricks was like a Saint Bernard and carried a little cask of alcohol with him everywhere for emergencies. Or maybe Thomas had been spending too much time with Harry, and had way too many beers, for that thought to have even crossed his mind.

"Well, I'm out of ideas. And princes of any flavor."

"Perhaps you can ask the person who suggested this 'cure' in the first place? Maybe we're missing some factor." Marcone rose and paced the room in front of the fireplace. Murphy watched him and Hendricks watched Murphy watch him. It was like watching a tiger being stalked by a lion, being stalked by the tigers bigger, brawnier cousin. Way too many beers.

"You know, yeah. I'll do that. You three just stay up here and...don't kill each other. There's plenty of room at the watering hole." All three of them gave him a look, but he waved it off and went back down into Harry's lab, shutting the trap door behind him.

"Bob?" The skull turned, still on the table where he'd left it next to the cursed spindle.

"You again?"

"Me again. This whole prince thing isn't working. I've had everyone I can think of who is vaguely 'prince'-y kiss Harry, and no joy."

"Kiss? Who said anything about a kiss? Fucking Disney, alright, ruining everything. No. I said you had to get someone of significant power to merge it with Harry's power. Not 'kiss'." The spirit chuckled. "You have to get a lot more intimate than that for the exchange to be enough to do any good."

"'Intimate'? You mean someone has to-"

"Bow-chika-wow-wa! And not just anyone. Someone powerful. The more powerful, the better."

"Fuck me." He'd been wrong. He had not had too many beers. He hadn't had near enough for this.

~

"Sir." The woman, Gard, knelt when her employer came through the door into Harry's place. Marcone and Hendricks stood, oddly respectful from the two of them and when the man, Donar Vadderung, looked in their direction they inclined their heads to him. Thomas felt odd when the gaze of the man's single eye fell on him. Like he wasn't just being seen, but seen through.

"Sigrun." Gard rose and took up a place behind Vadderung and to his right. "John. Mr. Hendricks. Mr. Raith." He nodded to them. "Now then. If no one has any objections?"

"Oh, we've got objections." Thomas growled, "But no other ideas."

"I understand, of course. Let me assure you I do this only out of necessity." 

"Just- go. Get it over with."

~

"No, no. This won't do at all." Vadderung looked around the tiny room, shaking his head. He raised one hand and waved it through the air in a short movement. The room shimmered and when it settled down they were in another room. This one was large and airy, sunlight warming the wooden floor, sending a pleasant scent through the room.

Harry's sleeping form now lay on top of a thick mattress, only a thin sheet covering him, creating shadows and peaks, intriguing in the way that only thin veils of modesty can be.

"Much better." He stripped himself, not using magic this time, but pulling his suit off, enjoying the ritual of it, the slow unveiling of his flesh to the light and warmth.

Nude, he stretched and moved over to the bed. Harry shifted as the bed dipped, silent, but his lips parted, sighing whisper soft. Donar bent and kissed Harry softly, one hand stroking across his cheek, brushing his fingers through his soft hair. Light pressure against his scalp and Harry moaned in his sleep, squirming a little as the magic began to seep into him.

Donar flicked one hand out, describing a circle in the air and willing it into existence around the room. Pressure snapped against them and he let loose some of his control. He wouldn't blow out the Northern states now. The god pulled back from Harry and took hold of the top edge of the sheet, tugging it down slowly, one inch of skin being revealed at a time. 

Harry moved against the bed, legs kicking out in sleepy, uncoordinated movements. They caught on the sheets, jerked them out of Donar's hand, brought them down until they covered only his hips. Heat bubbled up inside Donar, a slow, delicious burn. He drew his tongue over one long scar that ran diagonally across Harry's chest, pale against the palor of his skin. It lead him down, down to the twitching muscles of Harry's abdomen. 

Donar licked across the smooth, sweet skin, rolling the taste around in his mouth. He dipped his tongue into the valley of Harry's navel, scraped his teeth along the vulnerable flesh, drawing it into his mouth and biting down. Just a little. Just enough for the feel of it to fill him, to draw a deep gasp from the man beneath him.

He pulled the sheet away, revealing everything. Harry, still deep under the curse writhed, every movement slow as though he were under water, languid and utterly erotic. Donar took the length of him in his hand, loose, almost nothing at all, and stroked him. Feather touches. He took the head, mouthed it gently with just a bit of pressure. Donar pulled back and blew gently across the glistening head. Harry arched into the movement, his hips coming up off the bed and he murmured something that might have been 'please'.

It was enough. Donar could feel the power moving through Harry; gentle, slow waves, sleepy but beginning to wake up.

He snapped his fingers and a small tube of slick appeared in his hand. Donar uncapped it and squirted some into his hand. He wasted no time preparing himself, and poured more onto his fingers. 

Harry's muscles were lax, loose, and the first two fingers, broad as they were, went in easily. Donar scissored them apart, stretching Harry gently. They had plenty of time. He played with Harry's ass, savoring the tiny, breathless sounds the spilled from Harry's lips, the small movements he was helpless against.

When he felt it was enough, he added the third, allowing Harry's body time to adjust. He twisted them, crooking his fingers in at just the right spot. Harry tensed, his toes curling, a low whine pouring out of his throat.

Donar shifted, moved between Harry's legs and guided himself to the slick hole. He held Harry up at just the right angle and then pressed in, hard and sure. Harry gasped and his hips twisted, muscles tensing. Donar hissed and moved in short, smooth jerks, rocking into Harry's body slowly, spearing him an inch at a time.

Fully seated within the young man's body, Donar took a deep breath and pushed with his own power, felt it mingle with what was coming off of the wizard. He drew out, slow, savoring the shiver beneath him, the tensing of the muscles beneath his hands.

The power flickered between them and Donar plunged forward. He kept control only because that was who he was. He took Harry, took his lax, soft body. He poured a thin trickle of his power into the man as he did, slow and strong. Harry gasped, sleep muted movements a beautiful dance.

Donar spoke to him, told him how lovely he was, how soft and giving. Open. He spoke in his native tongue even as he grasped Harry's erection with his slick hand and applied just the right bit of pressure. The right twist, the right rhythm, in counterpoint to his own fucking.

He timed it perfectly. At the first sign of his own completion, Donar tightened his hand around Harry, drawing his orgasm from him in a rush of power that sparked along the circle in brilliant red lights. Harry shouted, incoherent and tongue tied, as he came, covering Donar's stomach in warm splatters. Donar's shout shook the room, thunder crashing down around them as he filled Harry, marking the man as his own. Power swirled around them, wild and chaotic. Donar swallowed it down, warmth and _life_ coiling through him, directed out in a rush back into Harry's body. The curse shattered, fragile and unable to stand in the face of the storm that filled the circle.

~

Harry stirred ten minutes later, rubbing the heel one hand against his eyes. He looked around at the opulent room and then down to his own naked form. Donar chuckled as one of the most powerful wizards on the planet yelped and tugged the sheets up higher, clutching them to his chest like a cliched startled maiden.

"What the fuck?"

Donar rose from his chair by the window and leaned over the bed. He curled one hand around the back of Harry's head, cradling it as he leaned down to kiss the man.

"Good afternoon, Harry." The wizard squeaked beneath his closed lips. Then they parted, letting him in. Delicious.


End file.
